


The Idyll Before the Storm

by annabeth



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Al has his body back, Angst, Conqueror of Shamballa spoilers, Elricest, Explicit Sexual Content, Incest, Incest Kink, Lemon, M/M, ignores a lot of movie canon, original anime series spoilers, the ending that ripped my own heart out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23984653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/annabeth
Summary: The first time Edward saw his brother’s new body was two years after he had crossed the Gate in order to return it to him. He was surprised, therefore, by how much Al looked like him.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric/Edward Elric
Kudos: 40





	The Idyll Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Elricest porn with a side helping of angst (really, really angsty angst)  
> movie spoilers (sort of); series spoilers  
> written in 2006.  
> "nii-san" is used to refer to an older brother

The first time Edward saw his brother’s new body was two years after he had crossed the Gate in order to return it to him. He was surprised, therefore, by how much Al looked like him. He had the same facial structure, and his hair hung in a long ponytail down his back. He even wore Ed’s old coat.

The first thing, therefore, that Edward did was entangle Al in an ardent embrace. He hadn’t been able to hold or touch Al for nearly seven years; it felt like a lifetime of wanting to feel Al’s ribs next to his own, the caress of his hair against Ed’s cheek.

The second thing that impressed itself on Edward’s consciousness was that he was taller than Al, which meant he must have grown in the two years they’d been separated.

"Nii-san," Al whispered against his neck, his arms wrapped around Edward in return. "I knew you’d come back. I didn’t know where you’d gone, no one did. But I _knew_."

Ed smiled a trifle sadly. "How could I stay away?" This should have been the happiest moment of his life; why did he feel so sad? Al closed his eyes—the same hazel-grey colour of his childhood—and snuggled closer.

"I missed you so much," he murmured, and for several heartbeats longer Ed held him, concentrating on breathing in unison with the little brother he hadn’t seen in the flesh in seven years, the child-now-teenager who hadn’t been able to breathe in that suit of armour he’d been trapped in. It was a novelty Ed didn’t think would ever wear off. He drew away and raised Alphonse’s chin with a fingertip.

"I imagined every day what you would look like," Edward said, studying the face that was more precious to him than his own. Strangely, Al looked almost exactly like he had pictured he would.

"Are you disappointed?" ventured Al.

"God, no." He tugged Al closer again, fitting his head beneath his chin. "You’re just perfect," he told his little brother. He could feel Al’s lips curve into a smile against his neck.

Not far off, Winry and Roy Mustang were standing, looking discreetly off into the distance. They were trying to give him and Al some privacy for their reunion.

"Oh, nii-san," Al said, and blew out a breath that ruffled Edward’s bangs. "We didn’t get you your arm and your leg back."

Edward closed his eyes and kept counting the _in-out, in-out_ of Al’s breathing. Was there any sound in the world more beautiful than this, any feeling more beautiful than feeling that heart beat against his own?

"It doesn’t matter, Al," he said. "You got your body back; that’s what was important."

"No," and Al slipped out of his arms to stand, fists against his thighs, looking fierce and protective, beautiful and so vulnerable it made Edward’s heart clench in his throat. "No, it’s not. You deserve your body to be whole. It’s my fault you lost that arm; I’m going to get it back."

"Absolutely not, Al. I’ve seen the Gate, I’ve crossed over. I’m not letting it get its hooks into you again."

"But, nii-san. Don’t you wish you were whole?"

"It’s okay, Al. Come here," he said, and when Al was close enough to touch, he wrapped his arms around him again. "As long as I’ve got you, I’m perfect." He kissed those bangs, two or three shades darker blond than his own. He concentrated on the feel of that slender young body in his arms, the one that he had given up so much for, and he didn’t regret a moment of the two years it had taken him to find his brother again. Just to hold him like this, and it was worth it. Al sighed softly.

"I can feel your skin," he said quietly, reaching up to rub a circle around Edward’s cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. "I wanted this so much, when I was in that armour. I could _see_ you but I couldn’t _feel_ anything like this, and I couldn’t remember what your skin felt like; what _mine_ felt like. I couldn’t even remember what your hair smelled like, and when we were little you always used to sleep with your head under my nose."

Edward laughed. "Yeah, and it probably stank, ‘cause when I was little I never let Mother wash my hair."

"Oh, no, nii-san. It smelled like heaven; see, I remember now."

"You’re a sap, Al." Ed pinched his buttocks and smiled when Al squirmed in his arms.

"I am not, it’s the truth. And it smells just the same now." He stood on his tiptoes and inhaled the scent of Edward’s hair. "Let me go, nii-san," he said, and obediently Edward dropped his arms and let Al step away. "This probably isn’t the place for all that," he said, and it was the Al that Ed remembered so clearly he ached; that protectiveness of his older brother, that common sense he possessed that Ed himself had so little of. He was right, of course; it wouldn’t do for people to start to whisper about them. _And the things they say, would they be true?_ sprang unbidden into his mind. Edward shook his head, and his blond ponytail slapped him in the shoulder. "Come on, nii-san. Let’s go home," Al said, breaking into his reverie.

"Why not," Ed said and headed towards the car. It had been a long time since he’d been ‘home’ anywhere, especially since Munich had never felt like home.

\--

Home turned out to be Winry’s house for the night, although Ed insisted on brushing up on his alchemy to do something about the charred remains of the house they lived in as children. Al stayed up late that night, elbows on the sill, watching Edward as he transmuted the ashes into a serviceable, small cottage of sorts. It was a project that he’d wanted to help with, but Ed had shaken his head and gone down the lane, leaving Al alone in the bedroom they were supposed to share. Winry and Auntie Pinako didn’t see any reason why they _shouldn’t_ , they were brothers after all, even if this was the first time since they were small that they would be sleeping in the same room with Al in his restored body. Al wouldn’t have considered it strange, either, except that there had been something unfathomable in Edward’s eyes when he’d been holding him at the train station outside of Resembool. Al wanted desperately to ask where Ed had come from, how he’d caught the train, and all; but Ed had climbed down onto the platform, Roy Mustang behind him, to greet Al, whom he had called ahead of time to let Al know he was coming.

There was a specter of a moon risen above the countryside when Al got tired of waiting for Edward to return to Winry’s house and come to bed. He’d waited two years to see his brother again; he may have been the more patient of the two, but his patience had run out. He wanted to feel Edward’s arms around him again, especially the cool steel of the automail that Winry had replaced earlier that evening. So he tossed Ed’s old red coat over his pyjama bottoms, laced his feet into his boots, and crept quietly out of the house. If Winry or Auntie Pinako noticed, they gave no indication. He walked down the lane, whistling tunelessly, his hair an unbound tangle down his back. He didn’t realise he’d forgotten to tie it back until he was halfway to their old property, at which point he shrugged and gave it up. It would have to serve, the way it was.

\--

Edward was sitting on the hardwood floor inside of his creation, legs crossed at the ankles—God, he was grateful for the return of his automail, even if it had been excruciating to connect all those wires to his nerve endings—chewing on an apple he’d picked from the tree behind their house. He was thinking about Al, of course. The way Al had politely eaten every bite of his supper, chewing with his mouth closed, and not speaking out of turn or with his mouth full. Ed grinned around a bite of apple. Not much like _him_ , at all—he probably set a pretty bad example for Al; where had he learned such manners, anyway? He certainly hadn’t needed them as a suit of armour that couldn’t eat.

At some point the ruminations turned towards the perfection of Alphonse’s restored body. Deep down inside, Ed had expected him to be beautiful. He knew that girls had considered him attractive, before; especially in Munich where his hair colour was not unusual but the length of it was. But now that he’d seen Al, he could see what he would have looked like if the arches of his eyebrows were perfect, if his eyes had been a misty grey instead of the bizarre golden-amber colour they were. And Al wasn’t missing any limbs, either. By the time the moon had swept halfway across the sky towards the dawn, Ed was half in love with his younger brother. By the time Al had reached the front door, he had almost convinced himself that it was perfectly natural to be in love with your brother.

\--

Al knocked on the door, and when his brother opened it, Al nearly took a step back. There was something smoky-dangerous in Edward’s eyes, in the jut of his hip, the way he the corner of his lip crooked between his teeth. But it vanished on a breeze when he smiled and stepped backwards. He bowed theatrically, and said,

"Come in, of course."

Al laughed, as Ed must have known he would. Pulling himself onto his tiptoes, he used both palms to brush Ed’s bangs back over his forehead, and gazed deeply into the familiar golden eyes of his childhood. He still couldn’t remember much of his time in the armour, but he remembered _this_ , these eyes that he would look down into and drown, knowing just by looking into them that Edward would never let him live out his life trapped in that suit of armour. It was something entirely different to be staring into them now, when he was actually smaller than Ed.

"Hey, nii-san, you know I’d be taller than you if I hadn’t gotten my body back at the physical age of ten." He grinned, and watched the gears grind to a halt, and Ed’s eyes darkened and narrowed.

"You miss being in that armour?" Ed said darkly, and Alphonse smiled delightedly.

"I missed _you_ ," he said, and dropped his hands.

\--

Ed’s forehead felt flushed, except where it felt cold at the abrupt loss of Al’s hands. Catching them in his own, he pressed Al’s palms over his heart, closed his eyes, and listened to him breathe. His little brother tolerated that for about five minutes before he pulled his hands away and began to explore the little structure he’d built. Ed watched him, content that he wasn’t going to disappear, and finally he was getting over the horrible nightmare in his brain that if he closed his eyes, the miracle would vanish and Al would be just a suit of armour, unable to feel it if Ed were to lean against his arm, or breathe on his fingers.

When Al came back to stand next to him, Ed touched their foreheads together, breathing in as his brother exhaled, feeling that soft damp warmth caress his lips. Maybe it was the intoxicating scent of Al’s breath, maybe it was the way his eyes were green in the moonlight, or maybe it was just some kind of hysterical madness writhing in Edward’s insides, but he leaned down and touched his lips to Al’s. Time stopped. He couldn’t hear anything around him anymore, just the deafening irregular pounding of his heart in his throat.

When he came back to his senses, he realised that he was _kissing_ his brother, and even though it was the barest meeting of lips, it was still wrong, secretive, shameful. He jerked his head away from Al’s mouth, and his mind reeled, taking in the image of lips rosy from pressure, still slightly parted in surprise. Al hadn’t pushed him away, he realised. He hadn’t kissed him back, but he hadn’t reacted with revulsion or disgust, just surprise.

\--

Al couldn’t quite catch his breath. He’d never been kissed before, in his life, and while it had been pleasant, he certainly hadn’t been expecting his first kiss to be from his brother. From Winry, maybe. Perhaps from some girl he’d never meet, now. Truly, he hadn’t even entertained the thought of kissing another man; he’d always imagined some faceless girl making the moves on him.

Certainly not his brother, who was looking awestruck and dumbfounded by his own actions. As Al watched, the expression turned from faint damning pleasure to exquisite shame, bloodying his cheeks, causing his pupils to contract in the dim light. Al took a step back, and then another. He struggled to breathe, trying to find a comfortable rhythm that wouldn’t overload his astonished lungs. He opened his eyes, hardly even noticing that he’d closed them, to see the look of abject horror on his sibling’s face. And it hit him. Edward, the brother he’d missed so terribly, was standing in front of him, every emotion he currently felt written across his flaming cheeks, and Al had _rejected him._ No, surely not. Alphonse took stock. How could he have reacted so thoughtlessly? This was Edward, the young man who’d sacrificed his right arm to bind his soul to that armour. The man who had given up his life in Amestris so that Al could have his body back.

Which meant that this body had been bought and sold by his brother’s love. What difference did it make, one innocent kiss? Didn’t Edward have the right to touch this body however he pleased? And besides, it wasn’t as though anything Edward could do could make Al love him any less. He sucked in a lungful of oxygen, held his breath, counted to ten—and walked straight back into those trembling arms, feeling the strength of the steel and the frailty of the human flesh, and stretched up, and ghosted his lips over Ed’s.

\--

There were no words. He couldn’t calm his stomach, which was roiling within him. He couldn’t kiss his brother back. He watched Al as his eyes slipped closed, as the lashes framed high cheekbones. He felt the pleasant exertion of the lightest yet most intimate contact against his lips, and this time he recoiled, pushing Al away from him. He hadn’t given his brother back his body so that he could take advantage of it—!

"Al, no, stop," he said hoarsely, stunned that he could speak at all. Al’s eyes widened, but he stepped forward again stubbornly.

"Don’t tell me, let me guess. You’re feeling guilty? Ashamed? Disgusted? So did I." Al kept coming closer, Ed kept backing off until he felt his back hit the wall. No more room to escape. "But it felt good. What difference does it make?"

"It makes _every_ difference, Al," Ed said, still trying to force the contents of his stomach down. It didn’t help that every time he remembered the feel of Al’s mouth on his, his body reacted in the opposite way of disgust. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to rein in his errant arousal while trying to keep Al from discovering it.

" _No_ , Ed." Al ran his fingertips down Edward’s sides, making him shiver. "I love you. Nothing could ever change that. I love _you_ , and if I couldn’t accept that you just kissed me, I’d be lying when I said that. But I’m not." Al gripped Edward’s ribs through his shirt and sealed their mouths together, pressing them so tightly together that Ed couldn’t think, he was dizzy with the scent of his brother’s hair, which was long and loose in his hands. He closed his eyes, opening his mouth with a sigh, and allowing Al to take the initiative. It took a few moments of dizzy thought to realise that Al had never been kissed before, and he, Edward, had—he dipped his tongue into that willing parted mouth, and tasted the apple he’d been eating before Al had come to the door. He tasted something unfamiliar, like cream—he hoped it wasn’t milk—and then went deeper, running his tongue along the ridge of teeth, and tasted something so familiar, it was like he was tasting his own mouth. _So this is what kissing your brother feels like_ , he thought, and then there were no more thoughts, just sensation.

\--

Al was thankful when Edward took over the kiss, because he’d had no idea what to do. Now Edward’s tongue was in his mouth, and it felt _strange_ , kind of wet and slimy, but not unpleasant. In fact—he shifted from one foot to the other. In _fact_ , he was getting an erection, something that had thus far only happened when he was sleeping, and never because of some kind of outside stimulation. It felt _good_ , a pleasurable fullness, a little achy but not in a bad way. Instinctively he rolled his hips, and a jolt of pleasure shot through his body and then dissipated, leaving behind a feeling he couldn’t name. The front of his pyjamas were damp, he discovered, and cautiously moved his hips again, this time arching into Edward’s right thigh. The feeling returned, sexy and sweet and powerful, and in response, he felt Ed press back, and the hard bulge of his brother’s erection suddenly met his own and Alphonse wanted to cry it felt so good. He’d never imagined that anything could feel this good, and he rubbed himself against Edward so suddenly that he broke the fusion of their mouths—which wound up being a good thing, as they both gasped for breath. Al was hanging on tightly to Ed’s shoulders, his bangs damp and sticking to his cheeks and forehead. Edward didn’t look like he was faring much better; his breath rasping in and out, the front of his jeans dark.

\--

"God," Edward said, and clung to the wall behind him, one arm still supporting Alphonse. His little brother was breathing like he’d been running for miles, and Ed could well imagine that he sounded the same. He’d never expected that a simple kiss could affect him like this; when he’d kissed Alphonse Heiderich in Munich, it had been lukewarm, gentle—nothing like kissing Al. Kissing Al was like sticking his hand—his _automail_ hand—in an electrical socket, only it didn’t hurt. "God," he repeated, and tried to gather his legs under him. He managed to get his balance, and using his left hand, ran his fingers through Al’s silky hair. It was smoother than his own, and felt finer, too. Al opened eyes that were even smokier than usual, and swiped a hand across his forehead, still clinging to Edward with all of his strength.

"Gee, nii-san," he said breathlessly, "we seem to be doing all sorts of forbidden things."

Ed wanted to do any number of things— rip all of Al’s clothes off, throw up, lick him till he passed out, throw up—but in the end he settled for guiding them both down onto the floor, to catch their breath. Al was right, of course—he usually was—this wasn’t the first time they had done something forbidden. The last time, they had paid dearly for it. Ed wondered, in the back of his mind, what the toll would be for kissing his brother.

"Al," Ed whispered. "You know we can’t tell anyone about this, right?"

"It’s not the first time," Alphonse said, and curled his legs under him, laying his head on Ed’s shoulder and tracing little arrays on his heaving chest.

"No," Ed agreed, "it’s not."

"That was—unexpected." Al kissed one of the arrays he’d drawn. "But it felt nice."

" _That’s_ an understatement," Ed said, and cupped his palm around the back of Al’s skull. "I think I’m gonna be sick."

"Feeling guilty again?" Al asked, and looked up into Ed’s eyes. "I’m not."

"Shouldn’t I? I just taught my own brother how to french-kiss."

"I would’ve learned how eventually."

"I would’ve preferred not to be the one abusing your innocence."

" _Ed_ , it’s hardly abuse when the other party is a willing participant."

"You weren’t at first."

"Neither were you."

"You were disgusted, I could tell."

"And then I got over it. You haven’t yet."

"Yes, I have!"

"Then why are you still feeling guilty?" Al countered, and tipped his head back. "Kiss me, Ed."

Edward could hardly refute his logic, nor could he refuse such a blatant invitation; for the third time that night he tasted his brother’s lips. Kissing Alphonse was a dream come true. His lips, tongue, teeth—they were a work of art, and if Edward couldn’t help himself, perhaps he could be forgiven for giving into temptation. _I can resist everything except temptation,_ he thought, and then Al touched the tip of his tongue to Ed’s and all rational thought fled under the onslaught of desire.

\--

Kissing Edward was an enlightening experience, one that Al wanted to repeat as often as possible. He enjoyed the feel of Ed’s mouth against his own, the tap of tongue against tongue, even the drizzle of saliva running down his chin—when it was Ed, _how_ could anything like this be revolting?

It was that realisation, more than anything else, that made Al believe there was nothing wrong with making out with his brother; after all, how could there be, when they loved each other as much as they did? Everyone knew it; Winry often remarked on it with a hint of jealousy in her voice. Would Winry be appalled by their actions, if she knew? Al agreed with Ed; better not to tempt fate.

There was a moment of sudden hesitation, when Ed licked the trail of saliva from Al’s chin and pulled back, his mouth shining with moisture. Al was gripping his shoulders—the automail port was digging into his palm—and Ed was still cradling the sides of Al’s face in his hands, staring at him, breathing shallowly.

"Are you sure this is all right?" he asked.

\--

Al’s lips were plump with blood, his face a soft rose, his eyes dusky green. He looked thoroughly ravished, and for a split second all the guilt came pouring back; until Al smiled and brushed away a droplet of saliva from the corner of his mouth.

"Of course I’m sure," he said. He leaned up and pressed their lips together again, a close-mouthed definitive sort of kiss, and then Ed _knew_ it was all right to continue. If Al wanted it, how could he refuse? He couldn’t deny is younger brother anything, and Al knew it.

\--

Al could see the guilt recede, and then vanish from Ed’s golden eyes altogether. His brother slowly pulled his hands away, and then ever so gently he lay Al down onto the floor, his left hand cupped under Al’s head.

"I don’t have a pillow," he said apologetically, and Al smiled.

"That’s okay," he said, and pointed. "Hand me your old coat." When Ed complied, Al clapped his hands and transmuted the coat into something resembling a lumpy pillow, and then Ed was sliding it under his head, his fingers tangling in the locks of Al’s hair, and then he swung his automail leg over Al’s hip, and knelt on the floor, straddling his brother on all fours. He leaned down and kissed Al again, his hands everywhere in his hair, and Al found himself reaching up and touching Ed’s sides, running his fingers down to clutch his slender hips, and then he saw stars as Ed, supporting himself on his elbows, ground his erection against Al’s.

"Am I too heavy?" Ed asked, a touch of worry in his voice.

"No," gasped Al breathlessly. At that point, he would have said _anything_ to get Ed to press their groins together again; and when he did, Al arched up and rolled his pelvis like he’d done once before, sighing and crying out with the intensity of the sensation. Ed was breathing so heavily Al would have been worried, if his mind hadn’t been so clouded by arousal and desire. He closed his eyes and poured everything he was feeling into his voice, and then Ed was sitting up, so to speak, and Al’s erection felt suddenly cold, as the air around them rushed in and coated the dampness of his pants. Ed was kneeling again, fumbling with Al’s belt, his zipper—he finally got the belt undone and tugged the zipper down, and then he paused again.

"Do you want this, Al?" he said, his hands stilled on either side of Al’s nearly-naked cock.

" _Yes_ , Ed." Al bucked his hips. "Quit _stopping_ and feeling guilty. Just _touch_ me already."

Ed watched Al a moment longer, and then he put his left hand inside Al’s pants and pulled his cock free. When he had accomplished that, he assisted Al in sliding his pants down over his hips, and then Al kicked them off, and his legs were cold.

"My legs are cold," Al said, and in response Ed ran his gloved hands up and down Al’s calves and thighs, creating a pleasurably warm friction. He followed his hands with his lips, making little damp open-circles on Al’s skin, then blowing on them, making Al shiver and goosebumps pop up all over his legs. Before he knew what was happening, Ed was licking all the way up his calf, over his kneecap, up his thigh and swirling his tongue around as he went. Al was going crazy with the feelings welling up and overwhelming him, he couldn’t help thrashing around a bit, gasping for air and it felt like his heart was going to pound right out of his chest.

"God," he panted, " _where_ did you learn how to do this?"

"Never mind," Ed said, and then Al’s balls were resting on Ed’s lower lip as he licked them, one hand—the flesh hand—cupping underneath them. Al just closed his eyes and tried to find something to hang on to. After casting about a little, he settled for clutching Ed’s shoulders again, and even the automail port couldn’t deter the pleasure sweeping through his body. Ed ran his tongue firmly up the underside of Al’s cock, dipping down and swirling his tongue around the head. Al pushed upward into his brother’s mouth, and Ed accommodated him almost easily. He darted his tongue around Al’s cock inside his mouth, then raised his head oh-so-slowly and let it slide out of his mouth, inch by excruciatingly pleasurable inch. When his mouth was free again, he looked at Al carefully.

"I’m wearing too many clothes," he said apologetically, and then tore his shirt over his head as fast as he could. When his chest was bare, Al caught his breath in his mouth. He’d seen Edward naked from the waist up before, of course. But it was not the same as seeing—really seeing—his older brother shirtless and aroused, the skin over his collarbone and down his breastbone flushed and pink, the scars around the automail port vivid red. How could he have imagined this sight, this vision of Edward naked and beautiful, even with all the scars and steel? How could he have not really _seen_ this before, when Ed had changed in front of him?

And did he look the same to Ed, familiar yet incredibly different? His naked back was stuck to the floor by sweat, his hair was a tangled mess tumbled around his shoulders and forehead, what did he look like to Ed—?

\--

_God, he’s beautiful_ , was all Ed could think as he divested himself of his leather pants.

\--

When Edward was completely nude, Al couldn’t keep looking at him, he was blinded by how utterly gorgeous and desirable he was. He closed his eyes and touched Ed’s chest from memory, tracing this scar, pressing the pad of his thumb against Ed’s nipple. And then Edward was pressing against him, their naked bodies in contact from chest to thighs, and the freezing cold metal of Ed’s automail wasn’t even enough to clear his mind of the muddle inhabiting it. Ed followed the curve of Al’s hip down with a gloved fingertip, and then his mouth was on his cock again, and Ed was sucking and kissing and licking and Al couldn’t do anything but thrust into that wet, sexy smooth mouth, trying hard not to gag his older brother—who was far braver than himself, although that could be his virginity talking—and then Ed grazed his teeth ever-so-gently over the flesh of his cock and he trembled all over, because he’d been afraid of those teeth, but the way his older brother was using them was driving him to distraction. Ed slipped his cock out of his mouth and pulled the foreskin back, letting his tongue creep inside, and Al was shaking all over, so hard he could barely stand it, and when Ed wrapped a fist around the base of his cock, and then his mouth went down and met his fingers, it was so intense that Al screamed and bucked his hips and came, hot and salty into Edward’s throat, and Ed swallowed convulsively and then lifted his head, a streak of semen slowly trickling down his chin. He licked at it with his tongue, but missed most of it, and Al was too spent to sit up and kiss it away; all he could do was try to breathe and stay conscious. He didn’t think he could even move; not for at least ten years.

It was in the midst of this sweet languorous reflection that Al realised Ed had to have learned how to do that somewhere, to be able to do it so masterfully and so well. That made him sit up, naked with sweat dripping down his ribcage, and even as he wrapped his arms around Edward he mumbled into his good shoulder,

"Who taught you that?"

\--

There was no answer he could give Al that would satisfy; no way to explain that there had been a young man with almost the same face as his brother’s, a young man who had taught him how to give a decent blowjob, and then allowed him to practice on him until he was quite proficient at it. Ed sighed, and while he thought, Al twisted his hands in his braid and pulled it free, smoothing the ripples with his fingers, until Ed’s hair hung long and loose over his shoulders and chest.

"A guy I knew," he said finally. "But I never really loved him. Not the way I love _you_ , anyway."

"He must’ve been pretty sexy," Al said. "And experienced."

"Never thought I’d be having sex with any man," Ed replied, "and I never did. That’s all it was; he taught me how to give a blowjob, and he’d give me head in return."

"Still..."

"And he wasn’t sexy, not like you are." Ed laid his head down on Al’s chest. "I could listen to your heart beat all night long."

"It’s racing," Al said, and filled his mouth with strands of that golden hair, so soft he wanted to taste the scent of it in his mouth.

"I don’t know how to do the rest, Al," Edward confided. He looked up in time to catch the smile that flitted across his little brother’s face.

"I don’t either," he said, "but I don’t mind. Maybe you could teach me how to do what you just did."

In the end, that’s as far as it went; Edward taught Al how to give a blowjob, and enjoyed the results of his professorial endeavour. The night fled quickly after that, and dawn washed over the world outside the window where the two brothers lay, entwined and naked in each other’s arms.

\--

The first assault was the worst, and Edward watched buildings explode and Roy Mustang use his flames to try and defeat the enemy that had followed him from the other world; and Ed felt responsible. He hadn’t spoken to Al since that night, except to say "I love you," and "pass the salt." When they had managed to defeat most of the armour-suits, and had forced the rest of them back to their own world, Ed found himself facing a decision that is never easy to make. As he activated the array to open the portal between worlds again, he looked back at Al one last time. His sin was staring back at him, grey eyes incredibly wide, tears caught in the lashes at the corners. It was easier than he’d thought, to leave his brother behind in Amestris and seal the door shut. He hoped that leaving the source of his shame behind him forever would help to close the painful, oozing wound in his heart.

He was wrong.

end.


End file.
